


Tempest

by cerie



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurricane, Hurricane Irene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 02:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t <i>choose</i> for MacKenzie to work at ACN again, she blew in like a goddamn typhoon and turned his whole world upside down. Northwestern had only been the outer fringes of that storm, the first warnings, and now Hurricane MacKenzie is blowing at his door and trying to knock out every last one of his defenses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tempest

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/WillMcAvoyACN/status/342394177771929600) from @WillMcAvoyACN.

“Reece wants us to cover the weather.”

There’s rain pelting against the fucking windows and the wind is whistling but Will chalks that up to the fact that they’re fifty stories up and the wind _always_ makes noise. He doesn’t think this is news. He really, _really_ doesn’t think this is fucking news and it’s pretty clear that MacKenzie agrees based on the look of utter disdain plastered on her face. It’d be cute if that was something that he ever wanted to admit to out loud - which he most assuredly does not.

“Well, we’re not fucking covering the weather unless he wants to give Maggie a raise and a pair of galoshes.” MacKenzie makes another face and launches into a heated discussion (Not a rant. Never a rant.) on how it’s incredibly sexist to assume that a woman would be presenting the weather when both men and women are perfectly capable of being quality journalists and, besides, meteorology is an incredibly prestigious field. Will listens with half an ear before she starts talking about the merits of weather reporting as a heated battleground for women’s rights and he gets caught up in just how beautiful she is. He’s always loved MacKenzie when she’s worked up about something and it’s almost always better when it’s _not_ him that’s pissed her off.

“Wait, what? Are you trying to tell me that the glass ceiling’s really a skylight and we’re breaking it with hail? Come _on_ , MacKenzie. I apologize for assuming Maggie would be the weather girl. Person. Weather person.” He’s about two seconds from laughing his ass off at her but it seems to deflate the rest of MacKenzie’s argument and she flops gracefully into the chair opposite his desk. She looks past him out the window, watching the tempest that’s passing as news stream down the windows in clear rivulets.

“It’s really unusual that we’re having a hurricane, you know. We’re long overdue.” Will snorts and shakes his head. “We. Are. Not. Reporting. The. Weather.” MacKenzie gives him a dark look and shrugs. “It’s just...conversation, Will. You know, hi, how are you, how are the plants, it’s pouring outside? It’s what normal people apparently do with one another.”

Will wants desperately to remind her that they’re not normal people because normal people don’t actually choose to work with the ex that ripped out their fucking heart. Then again, he didn’t _choose_ for MacKenzie to work at ACN again, she blew in like a goddamn typhoon and turned his whole world upside down. Northwestern had only been the outer fringes of that storm, the first warnings, and now Hurricane MacKenzie is blowing at his door and trying to knock out every last one of his defenses. Maybe he didn’t notice it the first time, the way that her presence knocks him off course and steers him in a different direction entirely, but he definitely notices it now that she’s been brought in to change him, his beliefs and the course of News Night in one fell swoop. Nobody in their right mind would willingly submit themselves to that much upheaval in such a short period of time but he didn’t get a fucking choice. Just like the stupid hurricane that Reece desperately wants to believe is news (it isn’t, at least not on ACN tonight), there’s very little to do to prepare for Hurricane MacKenzie other than batten down the hatches, crack into the liquor and hope for the best.

When the lights flicker and he hears the click of computers turning on and off, Will knows it’s a lost cause. The power’s going to go out and he’s not going to walk down that many fucking flights of stairs so he guesses it’s time to get the hell out and go hunker down for the night. MacKenzie pales a little, nervous, and Will frowns a little. Why the hell is she scared of a little storm?

“I live on the first floor,” she says quietly and Will remembers that when she got back to NYC after so many years gone, all the good apartments in her old building were taken and she ended up on the ground floor next to an old woman with way too many cats. MacKenzie had joked that she’d moved next door to her future self but Mrs. Klein, unlike her workaholic neighbor, had left the city to stay with her daughter during the storm. MacKenzie has nowhere to go and her apartment’s probably taking on more fucking water than the third deck of the Titanic.

“Well. Not tonight you don’t,” Will decides, pushing back from his desk and standing up. He thinks they ought to leave now before it gets worse and it doesn’t take him long to call Lonny and have him bring the car around. MacKenzie looks confused for a moment, like she isn’t sure what he’s really offering, and when the wind gusts high and sounds like it’s going to break the glass all around them, she squeals and ends up with her face in her hands. It’s ridiculous since she’s a grown woman but everyone has their One Thing that they just can’t stand and while Will hasn’t found his yet, he’s not going to fault MacKenzie for hers.

Maybe they’re not together anymore but he’s sure as hell not with anyone else and even if he _was_ , he wouldn’t feel the need to comfort them the way he does with MacKenzie. He slides his arms around her the way he used to a long time ago when they dated and he’s not really surprised to realize they just _fit_. MacKenzie is short enough in flats to tuck right under his chin and for all that she’s fiery and passionate, there’s something delicate about her that makes him worry that he’s going to fucking break her some day. He doesn’t mean to brush a kiss against her hair but he does that even while he’s wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back; MacKenzie tucks her face in against his neck and he swears to everything holy that she brushes her lips against his bare skin.

Will isn’t sure how long they stand there like that, using the excuse of the storm and the flickering power to share an intimacy long since past, but Lonny tactfully doesn’t do much more than clear his throat and jangle his keys to announce his presence. The moment’s broken temporarily and Will’s not sure if they’ll capture it again. He hopes so, sure, but like most things with MacKenzie McHale, it seems to have a mind of its own.


End file.
